


Easy

by luluwithan_u



Series: D20 One-Shots [3]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluwithan_u/pseuds/luluwithan_u
Summary: Easy like a New Year's Day morning?
Relationships: Ricky Matsui/Esther Sinclair
Series: D20 One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786114
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! I won't say this is very good but it's very fluffy and it makes me feel nice during tuc missing hours 🤧 if yall like it, let me know!

The morning sun peeks in through the half-shut blinds, and hits me right in the eye. I can see the snow falling and piling up on the windowsill, probably making a thousand children infinitely happier and even more workers significantly irritated all across town. The frost seems to cling onto the glass. The sheets upon me are thin – I shrink and snuggle into them, looking for warmth, and, in the process, push myself into strong arms and a bare chest. 

Oh, right. It's New Year's Day. The world almost ended last night, and I'm in bed with Ricky Matsui. 

He stirs behind me, and I entertain myself with how I would have never had let this happen twenty four hours ago. Residual instincts tell me to freeze, and, yet, I don't. I know I'm better than that now, and I know I deserve better, too. Losing Ma, Grandma, and everything I had was hard, but letting it make me tiptoe my way around life was even more painful. I've lived in fear of sorrow for far too long, and it frankly has turned me a little bit dull, so when those instincts try to take over, I hold on tight to the reins and let him pull me against his chest. I am Esther Sinclair, a hardworking witch with incredibly badass abilities, and, right now, I know I deserve to be lying in bed with Ricky Matsui. 

I do it, and, unlike what I had imagined, it doesn't feel the slightest bit wrong – but then, this is not the first and probably won't be the last time I'm wrong about the little box of surprises that is Ricky. I wronged him so, didn't I? And he came back and helped me in every way he could, not even in spite but rather regardless of it. I thought him lesser and, yet, his sheer presence feels like heaven: his nose against my neck are the lakes where all kinds of mischief and summer fun happen, his arm around me is the pearly gates shut behind me, a promise that this is the real thing, and our fingers, intertwined, are a reminder of myself, and of how it is here that _ I _ belong. I roll around to look at him, and there they are. The crinkles under his eyes that show me a groggy smile, the rolling hills of Elysium themselves. I smile before I can even realize it.

“Hey, you.”

He smiles back, rubbing his eyes for a second. When he looks back at me, something turns deep in my stomach, and I’m so sure no one has ever looked at me that way. His voice comes through a smile, ever so low and considerate. “Hey, you.”

Ricky uses his free arm to get some hair away from my face. He runs his thumb through my forehead, and then my cheek, squinting ever so little. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

I take his hand, and it looks so big in mine. I never expected it to be callous, and yet, of course it is: Ricky Matsui is a firefighter, a real man who is hard on himself in order to be helpful at dangerous situations, not a wax figurine people convince themselves he is. These hands have seen fire, and destruction. I hold them more gently, and, when I speak, it sounds even softer than I had expected. “Why not?”

“Because I’m awake,” he says immediately, looking at me point blank. There’s no pretense in Ricky’s voice - I’m tempted to think there hasn’t ever been any pretense in Ricky’s voice -, as there isn’t any on the calluses on his hands, and I know I have to face the pretense has always lived in me. A part of me tells me I should feel guilty, but a bigger one insists I’m over the constant overload of sorrow. Even if I tried, though, I think it would be quite hard to feel guilty after waking up next to Ricky Matsui. The conclusion of my redemption arc can wait: this moment needs to be enjoyed so very thoroughly.

I put a hand on his cheek, smiling into his eyes. The words don’t come to me like they usually do. I just hold Ricky’s face, hoping he will understand everything I otherwise would be able to explain, and watch as he smiles back at me, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. The smallest of smiles rests on his lips, and I swear there’s still a glimmer behind him where the wings were just hours ago. I know I’ll be sad, so soon and so much, but, right now, my chest is flooded with warmth. I put my forehead against Ricky’s, and close my own eyes. 

“Thank you, Ricky,” I whisper, feeling my lower lip trembling in the slightest, so I swallow. I don’t think I have ever shed happy tears, not up to now. “I can’t say it enough. Thank you for it all.”

Ricky doesn’t say anything back, and I’m glad for it. Our superficial interactions were always clunky, but Ricky’s insight into intimate feelings seems flawless - of course he has an eye for the genuine. Instead, he touches his nose to mine, and, after a moment of hesitation, lifts my chin to place a soft kiss on my lips. I can’t help but smile when he pulls back, and giggle as he plays with my nose, and, eventually, hold onto his face and kiss him again. I’ve always been scared that, if things were too easy, I would be hit so very horribly when they got hard, but I’m not scared anymore, and being with Ricky is  _ horribly  _ easy.

I’ll admit it’s a while before we get out of bed, and I allow it to be. The world almost ended last night, so I feel pretty safe in the assumption that the most pressing part is behind us. Ricky holds me close, and I take in his warmth as he tells me about his family, his job, his childhood. When he asks me, I tell him back, though I mostly listen. I haven’t smiled, or laughed, this much since… I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been. Ricky reminds me of my father, and Ma, and every good thing I have ever seen growing up, and I’ve quit denying being around him feels great. It’s the feeling a child gets when they get to the front of the line, and their stick of cotton candy is being spun for them: it’s crazy, almost magic, and it grows and grows in its promise of warmth and sweetness until it literally cannot any longer. Every shiny drop of sugar is magic, so much you don’t even care about how sticky it is. It’s a little sugar cloud, part of a wondrous sky, and you hold it right in your hand - the world is right between your fingers, if you’ll just take hold. Even if I had forgotten that feeling, Ricky reminds me, and I don’t feel like letting go.

He is gentle, and I won’t complain about having his body next to mine either. When we decide to leave the hotel, he helps me tie up my boots, and gets both my coat and scarf for me. Once he is done, and I basically look like a fabric snowman (fabricman?), Ricky holds my hand and leads me out, except I realize soon enough the gloves are too thick, and hang onto his arm instead - Esther Sinclair, hanging off of Ricky Matsui’s arm. Sofie will never shut up about it. 

It’s New Year’s Eve, and New York is filthy. We need to walk up to his car, through the streets of half-melted snow and endless litter, and I watch as Ricky stops every now and then to throw things into trash bins spread around, all the while talking about his sister Emiko’s job at St. Owen’s. I would be lying to say I noted things this duly and snarkily. Rather, everything becomes a sidenote to Ricky Matsui, the snow falling on his jet black hair, and his arm interlaced with mine. I know it’s worth it, especially since there are many (too many) sorrows we will have to face quite soon. They’re not a curse though, not anymore. Sadness is hardly a curse when I have the joy to counterbalance it, and something about Mr. March smiling at me and opening the suicide door to his red Maserati tells me I’ll have plenty of it in the days to come.

When we are sat inside the car and he’s reminded me to utilize the seatbelt properly, I rest one of my hands on his leg without thinking. He tenses up slightly, and it’s funny to think we were in this very place not twenty hours ago, and things were so different. I pull on the waistband of his boxers, letting it thwack against his hips, and Ricky laughs at me. I lean into the seat rather smugly, offering him a mocking smile. “Where to now, Mr Matsui?”

Ricky finishes fumbling for his keys, and looks at me as he shrugs. “I’m not sure yet, actually, but I can take you wherever you need or would like to go, Esther.”

It’s hard not to smile. I reach forward to kiss him on the lips, and, before sitting back, whisper for him, and him only, “As long as I’m going with you, Ricky.”


End file.
